A blog for people who already know grammar, spelling, their Strunk & White and Chicago Manual of Style, etc, etc...but want to be the best writers they can be.
I boil words out of submitted samples to make the writing as tight and clean as possible, without changing content or tone.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Boiling a Policeman with Jake Elliot

This week
we're going to boil the first 492 words of Jake Elliot's WIP, Joy-Ride. Jake is the author of Crossing Mother's Grave and The Wrong Way Down, as well as a variety
of shorter fiction. You can find him at http://jakeelliotfiction.com/, Amazon, Barnes & Noble,
Goodreads, and just about anywhere else books are sold.

The
Original:

Officer
Mike Tampinaro read the sign over the door, ‘Sheinker and Goldmann, Attorneys at Law.’

It was
an old office building in a neighborhood where the rent was cheap. These two
attorneys could have afforded one of those high-rise office buildings at the
center of town thanks to the money cow they’d been milking for over a decade.
The building’s exterior would never spill the story of how much milk the
money-cow had been giving, but with the money these two lawyers spent on late-night
commercials, it had to be a small fortune. From the outside it looked more like
an inner-city bail-bonds office––and in many ways––this wasn’t too far from the
truth.

Officer
Mike Tampinaro was the Metro Officer sent to handle a routine disturbance of
the peace. It was the typical call about music being played too loud, but
oddly, the complaint was made against the nursery next to the lawyers’ office.
According to the dispatcher, it was Gene Goldmann who’d called in the
complaint.

Thomas––the
dispatcher––had confided, “You know, that
guy on the commercials, promising to get people out of their DUIs?”

Yeah, that
guy.

Officer
Mike had pulled into the nursery’s parking lot next to the law office. Stepping
out of the police cruiser, he stood tall. Looking sharp in his dark blues, his
badge caught the sun’s light and sparkled. Taking off his sunglasses as if they
were what prevented him from hearing the rock-concert that supposedly shook the
foundation of this legal office, the dark lenses removed from over his eyes didn’t
change a thing. Not one note of music could be heard playing anywhere. From a
half-mile away, he could hear traffic on the interstate. Creepy was the lack of
noise.

His
eyes were greeted by a myriad of flowering plants set outside the nursery’s
fence, strategically arranged to entice onlookers to beautify their own
habitats. The garden center was open, but vacant of people. Empty. Almost a
ghost town, but equally absent of ghosts as it was void of loud music.

Mike
may have explored that oddity next if the front window of the law-office hadn’t
exploded outward in a cascade of shattering glass. Through the falling glass
flew angry bullets sent from a crackling gun. Bullet number one zinged through
the air close enough to Mike’s head to be heard. In an attempt to dodge
bullets, Mike leapt across the hood of his patrol car as slug number two
punched a hole through the windshield, spider-webbing safety glass and clouding
the view of his dash-mounted camera.

Ducking
behind the tire of his police cruiser, Mike heard the metallic tearing-sound as
another bullet pelted into the cruiser’s hood eight-inches away from where his
head was ducked. The gun’s rapport followed a fraction later, loudly announcing
its caliber. Mike knew it was a .38 by the distinct high crack. His trained ear
noticed the difference from its stronger cousin the 9mm.

The Condensation:

The first thing I'm going to do is
move the sixth paragraph up to the first, so the story starts with action. This
also allows us to boil out some of the "it was"-type mechanical
verbage.

Officer Mike had
pulled into the nursery’s parking lot next to the law office. Stepping out of
the police cruiser, he stood tall. Looking sharp in his dark blues, his badge
caught the sun’s light and sparkled. Taking off his sunglasses as if they were
what prevented him from hearing the rock-concert that supposedly shook the
foundation of this legal office, the dark lenses removed from over his eyes
didn’t change a thing. Not one note of music could be heard playing anywhere.
From a half-mile away, he could hear traffic on the interstate. Creepy was the
lack of noise.

First, we need to use his full name to
account for the move. We'll make up for the addition by boiling down future
names.

I got confused later, because I didn't
realize that the nursery and the garden center were the same place. Maybe
that's a regional difference, but I processed them as two businesses--one with
plants, one with babies.

The fact that he's tall can wait until
a later time in the story--it's not important to the unfolding scene, so I'd
boil it out for now and bring it up later when it matters.

"caught the sun's light and
sparkled" = "sparkling in the sun".

The sentence about the sunglasses is a
run-on, and it's a little confusing. I boiled it down and bumped it forward one
sentence.

The traffic line can boil down by describing
it, instead of just saying that he heard it.

The last line is phrased in a rather
Yoda-like way. (Well, almost. He'd say, "Creepy, the lack of noise
was.") A more straightforward wording would be, "The lack of noise
was creepy", but I'd be inclined to turn it into more of a show than a
tell. It's longer rather than shorter, but in this case I'd say it's worth the
loss of word economy.

Officer Mike Tampinaro
pulled into the garden center's parking lot next to the law office. He stepped
out of the police cruiser in his dark blues, his badge sparkling in the sun. He
heard no music at all, much less the reported rock concert. He removed his
sunglasses. Traffic roared on the interstate a half-mile away. Hair rose on the
back of his neck at the lack of noise.

Officer Mike Tampinaro
read the sign over the door, ‘Sheinker
and Goldmann, Attorneys at Law.’

We don't have to say that he read it
in his POV. The fact that he knows what it says means that he read it.

The sign over the
door said, ‘Sheinker and Goldmann,
Attorneys at Law.’

It was an old office
building in a neighborhood where the rent was cheap. These two attorneys could
have afforded one of those high-rise office buildings at the center of town
thanks to the money cow they’d been milking for over a decade. The building’s
exterior would never spill the story of how much milk the money-cow had been
giving, but with the money these two lawyers spent on late-night commercials,
it had to be a small fortune. From the outside it looked more like an
inner-city bail-bonds office––and in many ways––this wasn’t too far from the
truth.

Conjugations of "to be" are
good indicators that not only can some words get boiled out, but that the
description can be made more engaging. Instead of "being in" the neighborhood,
it can sit, or squat, or brood--depending on the atmosphere we want to project.
The "the" before rent is clutter.

The next sentence has a lot of little
boilings. "These two" = "the", "could have
afforded" = "could afford", "one of those" = "a",
"office buildings" can be cut (and it's an echo from the first
sentence anyway), "at the center of town" = "downtown" or
"midtown", and "been milking" = "milked". I'm not
a fan of emphasizing approximations... "for over a decade" can just
as well be "for a decade", and nobody will assume that you mean
exactly 10.00 years.

"The building's exterior" =
"the exterior", or if you prefer, "the facade".

"the story of" is clutter,
so is the "been" before "giving" if we change it to
"given".

"these two lawyers" =
"they"

"From the outside" is
clutter. The "and in many ways" can join with the "this" to
become "which". Let's boil out the "too" while we're at it.

The old office
building squatted in a neighborhood where rent was cheap. The attorneys could afford
a midtown high-rise thanks to the money cow they’d milked for a decade. The facade
would never spill how much milk that cow had produced, but with the money they
spent on late-night commercials, it had to be a small fortune. It looked more
like an inner-city bail-bonds office, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Officer Mike Tampinaro
was the Metro Officer sent to handle a routine disturbance of the peace. It was
the typical call about music being played too loud, but oddly, the complaint
was made against the nursery next to the lawyers’ office. According to the
dispatcher, it was Gene Goldmann who’d called in the complaint.

It's obvious from context that he was
sent there, so I don't think we have to say it.

I also think we can combine the
information in the final two sentences and boil them down to their absolute
essentials. "Music being played too loud" = "loud music".

Nothing sounded
like a routine disturbance of the peace, though dispatch reported that Gene
Goldmann had called to complain about loud music from the store next door.

Thomas––the
dispatcher––had confided, “You know, that
guy on the commercials, promising to get people out of their DUIs?”

Yeah, that guy.

I have no words to boil here, so let's
move on.

His eyes were greeted
by a myriad of flowering plants set outside the nursery’s fence, strategically
arranged to entice onlookers to beautify their own habitats. The garden center
was open, but vacant of people. Empty. Almost a ghost town, but equally absent
of ghosts as it was void of loud music.

"His eyes were greeted by"
is just a, ahem, flowery way to say "he saw", and as the rest of this
isn't poetry, I think we can cut it back. Better, let's boil it out altogether,
because we're in his POV and thus can dispense with the sensory verb.
"Flowering plants" are "flowers" (especially in an American
male POV).

We can remove
"strategically", because arrangement is deliberate by nature, but I
think we can do away with "arranged" as well--it's a store, so of
course they're not just there willy-nilly.

"of people" is clutter.

"Almost" can go, as can
"equally".

"absent" and
"void" can be merged.

A myriad of flowers
sat outside the garden center's fence to entice onlookers to beautify their own
habitats. The neon sign read 'Open', but the store stood vacant. Empty. A ghost
town as devoid of ghosts as it was loud music.

Mike may have explored
that oddity next if the front window of the law-office hadn’t exploded outward
in a cascade of shattering glass. Through the falling glass flew angry bullets
sent from a crackling gun. Bullet number one zinged through the air close
enough to Mike’s head to be heard. In an attempt to dodge bullets, Mike leapt
across the hood of his patrol car as slug number two punched a hole through the
windshield, spider-webbing safety glass and clouding the view of his
dash-mounted camera.

Ducking behind the
tire of his police cruiser, Mike heard the metallic tearing-sound as another
bullet pelted into the cruiser’s hood eight-inches away from where his head was
ducked. The gun’s rapport followed a fraction later, loudly announcing its caliber.
Mike knew it was a .38 by the distinct high crack. His trained ear noticed the
difference from its stronger cousin the 9mm.

I decided to take these two paragraphs
together, because by rearranging some of the information we can boil things
down a bit better, and combine them.

I wouldn't take the time to explain
what might have happened, especially as prelude to something as abrupt as this.
It's abrupt, so the words should be abrupt as well. I've changed
"exploded" to "burst" because my initial thought was an
actual explosion, and I had to revise my mental image on the fly.
"Shattering glass" should be "shattered glass", as we
humans can't experience it fast enough to see it shatter.

We can move the information about the
.38 up, to replace the awkward sentence about angry bullets.

There's no way in his POV he'd be
numbering or naming the bullets, and zinging through the ear close enough to be
heard is the same as zinging by.

It's obvious that he's trying to
dodge, so we can boil that out. Punching through leaves a hole, so we can boil
out "a hole".

...and while spider-webbed safety
glass may very well cloud the view of his dash-mounted camera, that's not
something he's going to stop to notice (if he could even see it) while diving
across the hood.

We know he's behind the police
cruiser, so "tire" will suffice.

"a metallic tearing-sound"
is a "shrieking impact", and "eight inches away from where his
head was ducked" is "eight inches from his head"...but he's not
going to whip out a tape measure and check, so while before I nitpicked about
approximations, here I'm going to nitpick about specificity--in both cases,
close enough is close enough.

The last three sentences I'm going to
boil out altogether, for three reasons:

One, a .38 revolver will typically
fire in the subsonic range, somewhere between 700 and 1100 fps, so the report
wouldn't arrive second,

Two, it's going to be traveling
somewhere awfully close to the speed of sound, and at the distance from
storefront to curb (where I presume a policeman would have parked), the
difference in travel time will probably not be noticeable, and

Three, we take care of the trained ear
information by the simple fact that Mike recognized the report for what it
was--most people wouldn't be able to do that.

The front window
of the law-office burst outward in a cascade of shattered glass and the
distinct, high-pitched reports of a .38. A bullet zinged by his head. He leapt
across the hood of his patrol car as another slug punched through the
windshield. He ducked behind the tire as a shrieking impact pelted the
cruiser’s hood a foot from his head.

The
Result:

The boiling done, on a re-read I think
we can rearrange things a bit more. Without boiling out anything else, I
shimmied some sentences from the now-first paragraph to the third.

Officer Mike Tampinaro
pulled into the garden center's parking lot next to the law office. He stepped
out of the police cruiser in his dark blues, his badge sparkling in the sun. He
heard no music at all, much less the reported rock concert. He removed his
sunglasses.

The sign over the
door said, ‘Sheinker and Goldmann,
Attorneys at Law.’

Nothing sounded
like a routine disturbance of the peace, though dispatch reported that Gene
Goldmann had called to complain about loud music from the store next door. Traffic
roared on the interstate a half-mile away. Hair rose on the back of his neck at
the lack of noise.

Thomas––the
dispatcher––had confided, “You know, that
guy on the commercials, promising to get people out of their DUIs?”Yeah, that guy.

The old office
building squatted in a neighborhood where rent was cheap. The attorneys could afford
a midtown high-rise thanks to the money cow they’d milked for a decade. The facade
would never spill how much milk that cow had produced, but with the money they
spent on late-night commercials, it had to be a small fortune. It looked more
like an inner-city bail-bonds office, which wasn’t far from the truth.

A myriad of flowers
sat outside the garden center's fence to entice onlookers to beautify their own
habitats. The neon sign read 'Open', but the store stood vacant. Empty. A ghost
town as devoid of ghosts as it was loud music.

The front window
of the law-office burst outward in a cascade of shattered glass and the
distinct, high-pitched reports of a .38. A bullet zinged by his head. He leapt
across the hood of his patrol car as another slug punched through the
windshield. He ducked behind the tire as a shrieking impact pelted the
cruiser’s hood a foot from his head.

So there you have it, 305 words down
from 492, a 38% reduction. I admit I did cheat just a little by omitting the
bit about standing tall, but in the end I think it was the right call. Do you
agree?